Memory Blanks
by rupzydaisy
Summary: There's a reason why Anthea can't remember. When Mycroft pressed the issue, just once after she had first been assigned her post, she replied with a single word; "Torchwood". He doesn't think much of it until an incident a few years later...


_I couldn't resist. Torchwood and Sherlock... well, Mycroft. Still, hope you enjoy and if you leave a review, even better :D _

_Set before Aliens of London in Doctor Who._

_Don't own anything. _

* * *

_There's a reason why Anthea can't remember. When Mycroft pressed the issue, just once after she had first been assigned her post, she replied with a single word; "Torchwood". He doesn't think much of it until an incident a few years later..._

Memory Blanks

Mycroft Holmes occupied a minor position in the British government, or so he said. And he had developed a large number of varied contacts over the years so when he came across the name Torchwood under a classified document he, naturally, became intrigued because he had never heard of it before except from his assistant _'Anthea'_, who had mentioned it once before. It was only after he attempted to read the document when he became interested. This was due to the fact that he was denied access because Level One Red clearance was needed. Mycroft had Level Two Green.

When he inquired about said 'Torchwood' the people he asked merely said that no such thing existed. So he became more interested and used up a few favours to dig up some information. It turned out that Torchwood was the name of an old house in rural Scotland where Queen Victoria had rested for the night after her journey to Balmoral had been delayed. Apparently the delay had been due to a fallen tree on the railway tracks and was assumed to be an assassination attempt which was unsuccessful.

He had become irritated with the lack of relevant information and so used up a favour from a slightly shadier source who informed him that the Torchwood Institute, which was also known as Torchwood Three, did not exist. Mycroft had then become rather busy due to...well; certain matters that the CIA had requested his advice on and he resolved to do some further digging when he had free time. The amount of free time also depended on Sherlock's latest antics, which could certainly take up his time.

* * *

_Three years later. Mycroft Holmes' office._

"I hope you find the proposals interesting." Mr Johnson, a large man opposite Mycroft asked cheerfully. He was quite overweight and wore a black suit with a garish purple tie. While his clothes were obviously expensive, his shoes were rather scuffed and they had been neglected to be polished in quite some time. _Not very consistent._

"I'm sure." Mycroft smiled half-heartedly back at the Junior Minister as he reached for the file. The man then, very loudly passed gas and Mycroft frowned very slightly as he picked up the file.

"Sorry about that." He told Mycroft embarrassed. "I had a take away last night. Not going to call them up again." And he chuckled. Mycroft nodded as he scanned the document. "So, Mycroft Holmes." Johnson continued to talk and Mycroft nodded again, "You must have a lot of contacts. A very smart man like you. And a lot of influence on the government."

Mycroft looked up from the paper. "I occupy a minor position in the British government. That is all." He turned over the page and continued to read. Mr Johnson passed wind again and Mycroft hoped that 'Anthea' had some kind of air freshener. To be honest, he wouldn't care if it was a tacky smell of what was labelled as fresh pine, anything was worse than that nasty smell of rotting eggs.

Mr Johnson smirked, "A minor position. Is that what they call it these days?" And Mycroft let out a little chuckle before closing the file and looking up to face the Junior Minister.

What he saw next shocked him completely. The man had reached for his forehead and was holding a small metal zip between his chubby fingers. He continued to smirk at Mycroft and then leaned forwards.

"What are you doing?" Mycroft asked as he reached under his desk to press the small red button hidden underneath.

"A minor position in the British government. But that's not all is it? And all those contacts, spanning across the whole world. Maybe we didn't even need to get into number ten; we just need a little army of your lot. Pen pushers with clever ticking brains." Mr Johnson burbled and Mycroft leaned back in his chair, attempting to get away from him. His mouth dropped open a fraction as Johnson pulled the little metal zip across his forehead and he unzipped the flesh.

"What?" Mycroft asked incredulously, he was almost speechless but recovered quickly. "What are you?" And he scrambled away from the strange man and backed up against the wall, shuffling along.

"Oh, are you going to run?" Johnson asked condescendingly as he pulled off his flesh to reveal the green, slimy skin of a monster underneath. He towered, over six feet tall with yellow long claws and a bulbous body with large black beady eyes and there appeared to be a large black device around its neck. "The hunt would be fun but I've taken care of the escape routes." Mycroft was horrified to find that the door wouldn't open. He turned around to face the monster that had now moved behind his desk. "This is a nice seat. Just think how much I can help the family if I was here."

"Get out of my chair." Mycroft spat.

"It's my chair now. And very soon I'll sit in it." The green monster spun the chair from side to side playfully.

"It's my chair." Mycroft repeated in horror. "How will you do that?" Mycroft asked as he moved over to the windows, only to find that they were somehow sealed and would not open. His gaze moved back to the discarded skin lying in a pile on the floor. _Oh good god, it's going to skin me._ He realised. "What are you?" He asked horrified.

"My name is Blon Fon Glieth. I am Slitheen. Now hold still, I don't want to rip your skin, the patching up takes forever to do." The monster launched itself over the desk and Mycroft stumbled backwards behind a cluster of black leather sofas in the corner of the room. The Slitheen lumbered closer, taking slow measured steps to enjoy the hunt, even though his prey was cowering behind the sofa. He cocked his head to the side as he heard voices from the corridor but dismissed them. No one could get in, he had sealed the exits.

His claw slid the black sofa to the side and Mycroft hunched down behind the large red armchair and wondered how on earth he had found himself in this mad circumstance. Suddenly the door wasn't there any longer. Actually there was a neat square hole carved out in the middle. A tall, brown haired man in a blue greatcoat strode in, pocketing something as he walked, and the Slitheen turned to face him. A short Japanese woman followed him in and both carried large guns.

"Hey, Blon!" The man called and Mycroft noted he had an American accent. "Claws where I can see them." He ordered both and he and the woman aimed their guns at the Slitheen.

"Jack, there's someone behind the chair." The woman said and Mycroft slowly stood up and moved towards the window, out of the monster's claws.

"Three of you?" The Slitheen mused, turning his large head from side to side. He looked at Jack, "Starter." He then pointed to Mycroft with a large claw, "Main meal." Then turned around to the woman, "Dessert." And made then an odd burbling noise which could have been laughter.

"You gonna come quietly?" Jack asked, tipping his head to the side.

"You smell delicious." The Slitheen lumbered forwards and extended his claw out, it looked razor sharp and strong.

"This better work." Jack told the woman seriously and they simultaneously aimed their guns at the approaching Slitheen who continued to burble as he moved swiftly towards them. His claw came down through the air. The two began to fire and Mycroft backed away from the windows to avoid any shattered glass. But he quickly realised that there were no bullets, only a spray of liquid and he noted that the 'guns' were merely large water guns.

Both Jack and Tosh sprayed the Slitheen down and then backed away, Mycroft copied and he was just quick enough. A rumbling noise erupted from the Slitheen and then he exploded, thick green gunge splattered on the wall and the sofas and then dripped onto the once clean carpet.

"Nice work Tosh." Jack complimented and she smiled back.

"Who are you?" Mycroft demanded, once the imminent danger from the monster had passed he had recovered and was back to his normal, composed self.

"Torchwood." Tosh replied and she passed over her gun to Jack who slung it over his back along with his own.

"And the monster?" Mycroft enquired, staring back at the slime covering half his office.

"An alien. Slitheen to be precise." Jack answered as he surveyed the destruction of the man's office. "You've got a lot of cleaning up to do," he commented as he surveyed the mess off the office.

"The bill of which I will send to your office." Mycroft replied huffily. "An alien? How did you, explode it?" He asked curiously.

"The Slitheen was a calcium based life form. A little acetic acid and..." Tosh replied, breaking off as what they saw was a better description. "It's basic chemistry."

"And you are a genius." Jack tacked on, Tosh smiled again as she pulled out her phone.

"Basic chemistry." Mycroft repeated as he thought back to a certain experiment that Sherlock had conducted one Christmas after receiving his first chemistry set. Vinegar and their great aunt Josephine's daily calcium tablets had not gone down as well as the younger boy had planned. "Why did it come here?"

"Slitheen are scavengers, maybe it thought you had unlimited access to scrap material. It tends to go for the more, larger people because it likes the extra room." Jack explained with a cheeky grin. Mycroft scowled, Sherlock was always sniping about his weight and asking how '_the diet'_ was going, perhaps he should actually go on one to avoid any more of these Slitheen.

"Well then, we'll be off." Jack said mischievously and reached over to shake Mycroft's hand. Tosh waved and then they both walked towards the door.

"Wait." Mycroft ordered. "Who are you?"

"Torchwood. And, you know we did save your life." Jack pointed to himself and Tosh. "It's usually common courtesy to say thank you."

"Thank you, Torchwood. I'll be keeping a close eye on you." Mycroft said as he sat down behind his desk.

Jack chuckled, "Somehow, I don't think you will." He held the door open for Tosh and then walked out after her.

Mycroft slumped in his desk and then pulled out his phone to text 'Anthea'.

_Bring in Earl Grey tea and a packet of painkillers. MH_

'Anthea' walked in five minutes later, cup of tea and saucer in one hand and a packet of painkillers in the other, as requested. She paused five steps into the room as she noticed the streaks of green slime and the neat square hole in the door, but she was a professional, and continued to walk up to the desk to place them down in front of her boss.

"This afternoon has been hell." Mycroft told her wearily as he reached for the tea and she watched him take a couple of sips. She threw him a quizzical look but knew better not to ask. He just continued to drink his tea and then took two tablets before standing up.

"Are you leaving sir?"

"Yes, tell the car to come around. I'll deal with this mess and Torchwood tomorrow morning." He stated as he picked up his umbrella and phone.

"Yes sir."

"Do not let anyone into my office. See if you can find a screen to cover that ghastly hole," he added as he walked out of the doorway.

"Yes sir." 'Anthea' replied.

* * *

_Five minutes ago._

Torchwood was good; they were clever, they had over one hundred years of experience and alien technology behind them. But it had been easier than normal to clean up after this Slitheen incident. Mycroft wouldn't remember a thing by tomorrow morning and he certainly wouldn't be digging dirt on a nonexistent institute.

Tosh and Jack walked down the corridor and approached 'Anthea's' desk. She sat, eyes glued to her Blackberry and her manicured finger tapped away furiously.

"Hello there." Jack greeted as he leaned over her desk.

'Anthea' looked up, nodded and then looked down again and continued to type. Then the typing noise slowed down and she looked up. "Jack?"

"Hello." He smiled at her.

'Anthea' stood up and smiled back. "Jack!" And she walked out from her desk and gave Tosh a hug. "What are you doing here?" She asked confused at their appearance.

"Just a little job. And I need you to do a little one for me too." Jack replied seriously and passed over a little vial which contained a small white tablet.

"Of course." 'Anthea' agreed instantly.

"Just drop it into his tea. He won't notice the difference. And I'll sort out his office." Tosh instructed as Jack nodded.

"You finding the job alright?" He asked and 'Anthea' nodded. Her phone buzzed loudly on her desk and she glanced down at it. "We'll let you get on with it. Take care." He told her and then they walked off down the corridor.

'Anthea' stood at the mini kitchen and stirred the spoon around; making sure that the little pill had dissolved thoroughly. As she placed the spoon in the sink, she smiled. Because she remembered him. Captain Jack Harkness. She had known both of them for quite some time, although she couldn't remember the woman's name anymore.

They had found her four years ago, wandering down the steps of the Roald Dahl Plass in Cardiff looking lost and confused in the middle of the night. They had taken her to the Hub for questioning and after several tests and a short questioning, they realised that she had been dumped by the Rift. It turned out she was from the twenty fourth century and had recently moved from London to Cardiff before she had been taken by the Rift, but she couldn't remember much at all. The Rift had stripped her off her memories, even her name. Anything about her personal life, her family was just a gap in her memory.

She had stayed a while to acclimatise to the twenty first century, it had been distressing at first but after a while she had learned to deal with it. She had had to. Torchwood had helped her, Tosh had worked to sort out a background for her and created the documents she would need. Jack had called in a favour with an old acquaintance in the civil service and a few months later, 'Anthea' had moved to London with a post, on a trial basis, with Mycroft Holmes. Although it wasn't _her London _with its Sky-Rail and Arthur- Baker Tower, it was still London and she had settled in nicely.

* * *

By eight thirty the next morning, 'Anthea' had cleaned up Mycroft's office, replaced the door and deleted all evidence of Torchwood from the video cameras. Mr Johnson's file had been shredded too and every detail of the meeting had been erased from history methodically. She smiled as Mycroft walked in.

"Good morning..." He asked.

"Holly." She finished off for him. "Good morning sir."

Mycroft didn't comment on the events of the day before and his work continued as normal. Mycroft Holmes would have no recollection of Torchwood or any man-eating, flesh suit wearing Slitheen either. Torchwood was outside the government and beyond the secret services. And sometimes circumstances demanded that it had to Retcon them.


End file.
